


On the 12th Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Epiphany

by Mangokiwitropicalswirl



Series: The Twelve Tropes of Christmas [12]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangokiwitropicalswirl/pseuds/Mangokiwitropicalswirl





	

Slowly, Scully turns on her side until her face comes to rest on Mulder’s shoulder. Her much-too-large pjs have shifted so much that her own shoulder is bare where the shirt has slipped down. Mulder hums in approval as she buries her nose in his neck.

“Mulder, where’s your shirt?” she asks as her hands smooth up along the ridge of his obliques and come to rest in the small thatch of hair on his chest.

“I got hot in the middle of the night,” he whispers. “What does your mom keep her thermostat at? Like 80?”

“She’s always cold,” Scully says, nuzzling his chin with her nose. Mulder pulls her a little closer and slips a hand under the drooping waistband of her pants, coming to rest on her slender hip. For a moment, neither of them say anything but just settle into a comfortable tangle of limbs and hands.

“I do, you know.” Mulder breaks the quiet.

“Do what?” 

“I do love you.” His voice is steady and holds only the tiniest hint of a question.

“I know,” Scully whispers. “I know you do.”

“Then why am I so nervous about this?” Mulder whispers back, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Scully swallows, pausing before replying. “Maybe because you know what I do.”

“What’s that?”

“That this is it.” Scully runs her hand along his chest again. “That if this doesn’t work, we’re both fucked.”

Mulder chuckles at Scully’s use of profanity, but then immediately quiets when she lifts her head to look at him directly. “There could never be anyone else for me but you,” she says in a soft voice. 

Mulder’s eyes flare in recognition and he pulls her down into a fierce kiss. His hands move up her bare back under her shirt as she settles her weight almost fully on top of him. Scully groans as his mouth opens to hers and a throbbing heat begins to spread from her core. As she shifts on top of him, she can feel him hardening beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, which only stokes her desire.

Mulder’s hands slide down to grip her ass as Scully moves to kiss his neck, her center almost perfectly aligned with his. With a swift motion, he shifts her weight to settle his erection into the groove between her legs. “Oh god!” Scully whimpers at the contact, now slick and wet enough to feel herself seeping through her flannel pants. Mulder’s eyes roll back as his heart rate speeds up, the almost-but-not-quite connection between them stealing his breath away.

For a moment, Scully comes up on her knees and slides herself back and forth along his shaft, eliciting a long groan of pleasure from Mulder that makes her giggle before she angles herself down for another deep kiss. Mulder wraps his arms around her and turns them both until she is pressed beneath him, her hands in his hair pulling his head against her mouth. Mulder begins to unbutton her shirt with one hand, and Scully shivers at the feel of his fingers along her sternum. 

It’s all too much -- the ache in her groin, the slide of his tongue, the heat of their breath against each other’s cheeks. She feels like she could cry or burst or just slowly combust.

Mulder’s mouth begins journeying down the side of her neck toward the bare skin exposed by the undone buttons. Underneath her shirt, one of his hands has found her breast and is kneading it slowly, teasing one nipple to stiff attention. Scully almost lets out a squeal, but swallows it quickly when she hears the squeak of a door hinge and the sound of water running in the upstairs bathroom. She bolts upright and grabs Mulder’s wrist to stop his attentions to her breast. His head snaps up as they both freeze and listen.

“Mulder,” Scully hisses as if she has just remembered, “we’re in my mother’s living room!”

“That didn’t seem to be a problem until just now.” Mulder grins up at her.

Scully leans back and sighs as Mulder rolls off of her, panting slightly as he stares up at the ceiling. Scully hastily rebuttons her top and shifts to put some respectable distance between them. “It’s earlier than she usually gets up,” she says. “I should go start some coffee.”

“Aww Scully,” Mulder groans, “You cannot just leave a man hanging like that.”

She side-eyes him with a smile. “Unless you’re telling me you want to finish this in the time it takes my mom to clean up in the bathroom, I think we have to cool it for now.”

He raises both eyebrows as he squeezes her thigh and she laughs. Mulder props himself up on his elbows and takes a long, slow look at her. 

“What?” Scully asks.

Mulder lowers his voice. “I’m just remembering how before I slipped on those steps, I was really looking forward to taking that red dress off of you.”

Scully gulps and feels herself blush thoroughly before she retorts, “well maybe if you play your cards right, we could make that happen.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.” She leans down and presses her cheek along his, breathily. “If only I had a reason to wear it again.”

“Scully,” Mulder gets the hint. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

“Yes, Agent Mulder, I would,” she replies. “Now, let’s get ourselves up before my mother comes down here and takes a look at this bed.”

“Now that’s a phrase I don’t think I’ve heard since high school.” Mulder swings his legs over the side of the bed and scoops up his undershirt while wriggling into his suit pants.

 

Scully pads over to the kitchen and starts opening cabinets, looking for supplies to make coffee and toast.

“Dana,” Maggie timidly calls down the stairs, “Are you and Fox up?”

“We’re up, Mom,” Scully calls back as she fills the carafe and dumps it into the machine.

Maggie eases down the stairs with a look on her face that says she half-expected to find them still guiltily entangled in her hide-a-bed sheets. Mulder ducks his head as she greets them, suddenly a little embarrassed by his bed hair and half-done-up pants. But Scully’s avoiding looking at her too, busying herself with finding coffee cups and rummaging through the fridge for jam.

“You two sleep well?” Maggie plays along with their innocence.

“Very,” says Scully, not acknowledging Mulder’s lingering gaze at her exposed chest where her top button has slipped open. “Thanks Mom, it was nice not to have to drive back so late.”

“Well, you’re welcome any time, dear,” Maggie gives her a brief hug. “You too, Fox. I hope your headache is better this morning?”

“Much,” mumbles Mulder suddenly eager to make an exit. “Think I’ll grab a quick shower, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Maggie nods down the hallway. “There’s clean towels in the closet on the left.”

Once Mulder is out of the room, Scully can feel her mother’s questions humming in the air between them.

“Honey, you looked just lovely last night,” Maggie begins, a twinkle in her eye. “I hope Fox told you so.”

Scully feels the color rising up her cheeks. “He did,” she nods, not offering more.

“You look lovely this morning, too,” Maggie winks.

“Mom!” Scully exclaims, blushing furiously all the way to her hairline.

Maggie just smiles and begins setting out plates for breakfast. When Mulder returns, they all share a quick breakfast and talk through a plan to retrieve Maggie’s car and deposit Mulder back at his apartment. Scully changes into the spare set of clothing that resides in her trunk and Mulder makes due with last night’s suit pants and an unbuttoned work shirt. 

“Don’t forget your dress,” Mulder slyly reminds her as they head out to the car. Scully shoots him a look and holds up the plastic sack where she’s folded it up as carefully as she can.

Despite the doctor’s instructions not leave Mulder unattended, he manages to convince Scully he’ll be okay for a few hours while she and Maggie take care of things. As Scully drops him off, he throws her a knowing glance in the rearview mirror and promises, “I’ll call you, okay?”

“Give me an hour or two,” Scully says turning toward him. “And don’t you overdo it. Take your painkillers and rest, that’s it.”

 

“I’ll be fine, Scully, I swear,” he rolls his eyes as he steps out of the car.

“He always says that,” Scully mutters under her breath as she pulls away, ignoring the amused look in her mother’s eyes.

 

Scully knows she and her mother must have talked about something on their drive to pick up the car. She knows she must have driven her usual route back to her apartment and walked her usual path up the steps and down the hall to her door. She assumes she must have set down her keys in their usual spot and dropped her bags by the desk. But it’s not until she’s standing under the warm onslaught of the shower that she can think about anything other than Mulder. 

When she’d left the house the night before, it had been with no thought beyond showing him she could rock a red dress, maybe get his attention after a few months of tension and distance. But now, he had told her he loved her. She’s woken up in his arms. There’s probably security footage of them making out in the sculpture wing of the National Gallery. “Oh my god!” Scully blurts out loud, embarrassed at the images that are flitting through her brain. 

She hangs her dress in the steam of the bathroom to smooth out the wrinkles from the night before. She shivers remembering the way Mulder looked at her in it, the way he has promised to remove it from her body. Her gut clenches again just imagining it.

“I have a date,” Scully says to herself in the mirror. With Mulder. A date. 

Even in her wildest imaginings of their eventual coming together (and they were many, and frequent), she had never imagined a traditional date, with plans and phone calls and nervous preparation. It makes her a little giddy -- an unfamiliar emotion she’s now felt more than once in the past 24 hours. The sound of her cell phone ringing saves her from too much more over-thinking.

“Hey Scully,” he begins before she can even say hello, “I have an idea for dinner.”

 

“Okay?” She waits.

“But I suddenly realized I can’t drive.” Mulder sounds disappointed.

“So?”

“Well, it’s kinda weird to ask you to drive yourself to my place when I’m the one who should be picking you up.”

“I’ve picked you up dozens of times,” Scully brushes off his concerns. “I’ll come to your place and we can go from there.”

 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course. What time?”

“Seven?”

“Seven is perfect,” Scully assures him even as she wonders how she’ll make it that many hours without seeing him. “Oh, and Mulder, how is your head?

“Honestly,” he pauses, “I feel absolutely okay. Either these meds are the good stuff or it wasn’t that much of a blow -- amnesia notwithstanding of course.”

“Good,” she replies, “but still, not too much exertion.”

“You’re no fun, Dr. Scully,” he teases.

“See you tonight,” she replies, swallowing the half-dozen racy innuendos alight on her tongue.

 

For Mulder, the rest of the day is a blur. The painkillers make him drowsy, and he wakes up mid afternoon so dazed there’s a puddle of drool on his pillow. The moment he’s fully awake, he replays and replays last night’s images, still hardly believing that what he remembers really happened. He has loved her for years, but has learned to exist in the rare light of her smiles and the flickering hope of something more. Suddenly, he’d obliterated all of her boundaries and she didn’t say no. 

He smiles. Then heads to his room for a change of clothes. Looking around at his place, he considers that this will be where they return to and with any luck, where she’ll stay the night. Forget no exertion, he thinks, the apartment needs a thorough cleaning. 

 

Scully pulls up to his apartment at 6:35. She’s embarrassingly early. She’s steamed the wrinkles out of the dress as best she can and done her hair exactly the way she’d done it the night before. She has dabbed perfume in the same places, behind her ear, in the valley between her breasts. She’s put on similar underthings -- a black bra and black lace thong panties. Sliding them on in her bathroom, all she could think about was Mulder sliding them off of her and she ended up having to change them a second time. 

“It’s Mulder.” She says aloud to herself after she turns off the ignition. “It’s just Mulder.” 

This somehow both calming and nerve wracking. She had spent years formulating reasons why they should not get involved, and then a couple more years unmaking those excuses as they’ve moved closer and closer toward this inextricable union that neither of them has taken the time to define. It’s beyond overdue. She grabs her purse and opens the car door. I’m not 25 minutes early, she thinks, I’m probably a year or two late.

Mulder opens the door with a surprised look on his face, his toothbrush still hanging from one side of his mouth, not yet in his dress shirt. 

“You’re early,” he grins, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m not quite ready.”

“That’s okay,” Scully looks around sheepishly. “I think I overestimated the drive time on the weekend, you know.” Suddenly, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, and in an apartment she’s been in a hundred times before, she doesn’t know where to sit or if she should take off her coat. The temperature seems to have risen a couple degrees.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Mulder calls over his shoulder as he heads to the back room. 

Scully fiddles with the buttons of her coat, and wanders through the kitchen, pulling a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the tap. “Where are we going?” She calls toward the bedroom, hoping he doesn’t detect the quaver in her voice.

“A French place,” he calls back. “I’ve never been there. Frohike says it’s good.”

“Frohike?” She laughs. 

“Yeah,” Mulder says as he steps out from the bedroom, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt as he comes. “He seemed to think it’d be the kind of place you would like.”

“And you asked Frohike about this when?”

Mulder glances down, embarrassed. “Um, awhile ago.”

“Awhile ago?” Scully probes further, trying to catch his gaze. “And what exactly did you ask him?”

Mulder steps closer to her, running a hand along the arm of her coat. “I asked him where he would take the enigmatic Dr. Scully if he were going to make a move.”

“Make a move, huh?” Scully looks up at him, eyes bright. “Is that what this is?”

“I should hope that was obvious,” Mulder chuckles and leans to inhale the scent of her perfume. “I think I laid all my cards on the table last night.”

“You certainly did.” Scully steps close to him and tenderly begins buttoning the top few buttons on his shirt. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking?” She looks up at him coyly, her hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Always.”

Scully reaches a hand to his neck and pulls his mouth down to hers. Mulder groans as she arches up toward him and he pulls her entire body flush against his. She is immediately breathless as Mulder kisses and kisses and kisses her there in his kitchen, in his stocking feet. All thoughts of dinner, of polite talk, of formalities, flee from her mind as his tongue begins working her mouth and he grips her waist so firmly her feet leave the ground.

When they pause for a breath, Scully whispers into the curve of his ear. “I think I forgot to say it last night,” she pauses. “I love you too. So much.”

Mulder nods slowly, smiling, and takes her hand in his. Without another word, he leads them toward his bedroom. Scully swallows audibly. 

“We’ll miss dinner,” she protests feebly as they cross the threshold of his room. 

“Scully,” Mulder spins around suddenly and presses her against the doorframe. “I. Cannot. Wait. One. More. Minute.” He punctuates each word with a huff of breath against her cheek. “Can you?”

She grips his shirt, straining the buttons she has fastened only moments before. Her insides tighten in a palpable flood of desire and her eyes widen in response to the scent of Mulder’s skin against hers. “God,” she whimpers, shaking her head urgently, “No.”

Mulder swoops down on her mouth in another frantic kiss, pressing his lean body against hers as his long fingers busily undo her coat. Scully is panting between kisses and pulling at the hem of his shirt. Mulder pushes the jacket off her shoulders and watches it pool on the floor before raking his eyes over her figure encased in the tight red dress.

The round tops of her breasts spill delectably out of her black shelf bra and Mulder wastes no time pressing his lips down her neck before laying his head against her left breast to listen to the galloping beat of her heart. She cradles his head there, threading fingers through his hair as he turns his face into the valley of her cleavage and snakes his tongue up her sternum.

Scully cannot remember ever before having felt like she was being devoured, consumed whole, by a lover. This is what that must feel like, she muses as she tips her head back against the wall while Mulder’s lips and tongue caress her neck, to be eaten alive. 

She wants to feel him closer, wants some of the contact they’d been working toward in the bed at her mother’s that morning, but her dress is so tight, she can’t move to straddle him. She’s about to tell him she needs to shift positions when he seems to read her mind. His hands reach the top of her shoulders and he looks deep in her eyes as he pushes one strap, then the other, off either side. He reaches around behind her and finds the thin zipper, nudging it down slowly until she can step out of the dress. 

For a moment, Scully fights innate modesty, standing there in nothing but her lacy black bra and thong panties that sit high on her hips, her high-heel shoes still on her feet. Mulder’s still fully dressed but for a few undone buttons and his untucked undershirt. He looks at her with eyes so wide she thinks he might pass out right in front of her. Instead though, he runs a hand softly up one milky white flank and gulps. “You,” he runs them hand up and down her torso until she shivers, “are so,” he pauses again, his other hand reaches for her other side and holds her against the doorframe, “beautiful.”

Before she can respond, his mouth is on hers again and she hops up to wrap her legs around his waist, the contact with her center that she has been aching for only partially sated. Mulder maneuvers them toward his bed and leans her back carefully, coming to rest between her legs. Scully tugs frantically at his shirt, eager for the feel of his chest against her bare skin, so he raises just long enough to pull it over his head. Both of them let out a low groan when he settles back down onto her. Scully runs her hands along the taut muscles of his back down to the top of his ass where she slides her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. She wants these off too, and begins running the flat of one foot lazily up along Mulder’s thigh. 

“Somebody’s impatient,” Mulder jokes from where he is kissing her neck.

“Somebody wanted to skip dinner,” she replies coyly, “and if I remember right, that somebody was you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he grins up at her just as he bends and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking so hard Scully feels like she might levitate right off the bed. She lets out a squeak of pleasure and throws her head back again, giving herself over to the sensations of his tongue over her bra on one side and his hand reaching in to caress her bare flesh on the other. As he works her, her bra slips down until she’s completely exposed, the lacy apparatus doing nothing more than help thrust her more efficiently into his eager mouth. 

Above her, a mirror she didn’t know he possessed reflects back to her the most erotic image she has ever seen: her hair is thrown back like a halo and her own heavy lidded eyes are struggling to stay open, watching as Mulder’s long bare torso stretches between her legs. His head tosses and rolls with the effort of devouring her naked breasts while her slender legs are spread open, holding him in place with her feet.

“Oh God!” She lets out another breathless squeal when Mulder shifts to suckle at the other breast. “God, Mulder. When did you get this mirror?”

“You like to watch, huh?” His voice is gravel and smoke.

“It’s,” she breathes slowly, trying to answer, “it’s fucking hot.”

Mulder hums low in approval and moves lower down her torso, kissing the hollow of her belly before hooking his thumbs under the lacy straps of her thong and pulling it slowly down her legs. Scully feels her stomach flip and she can hardly meet his gaze as he stares at her flushed naked body. She doesn’t know if she has ever been this wet, this wanton, this hungry. She wants all of him. Now. 

“Pants, Mulder,” she commands.

“What?” He looks up at her, dazed.

“Take. Off. Your. Fucking. Pants.”

“Bossy, bossy,” he smiles and shakes his head even as his thumbs pull his suit pants and boxers down his hips in one swift jerk. Scully’s eyes widen at the sight of him, glistening and hard and ready. She almost comes just looking at him. She crooks a finger, beckoning him toward her, a gesture that’s such a cliche that they both burst out laughing. 

For a moment or two, they lay back on the bed and catch their breath. Mulder moves to settle over her, but before bending to kiss her, he suddenly detours south and begins kissing up flesh on the inside of her thighs. “Mul--” Scully shivers, wanting him inside of her, but also too caught up in the slide of his tongue toward her center to protest. 

And then, he is there. The flat of his tongue dips into her folds and his top lip grazes her clit. Scully jolts, nearly swearing as her hands grab at fistfuls of bedspread. He tongues her again and again before thrusting his fingers inside her, curving against the front wall of her pussy and simultaneously sucking her clit. “Shit” she exclaims. “Oh god, shit, shit, shit,” she murmurs loudly as the motion of his tongue and his hand circle her higher and higher toward climax.

She wants to watch him, but she can barely keep her eyes open. Every new height of sensation slams them shut again, and in between, she is undone by the sight of the two of them in the overhead mirror. His head is busy between her legs and her breasts quiver in time to the motion of his thrusting fingers. She reaches one hand to grasp Mulder’s free hand and folds her fingers tightly between his. She moves her other hand to her own breasts and begins roughly squeezing and tweaking her nipples. 

She has never been like this in bed. Never. Never been so incredibly free and feral. She is drunk on the feel of Mulder’s tongue and his hands and his breath and his smell. She can hear the sound of him lapping at her juices and, as if it were possible to be more turned on, she groans in arousal. 

All at once, she is there. Mulder sucks hard on her clit and she’s bucking wildly, her head thrashing against the bed and her hand squeezing his tightly. “Ah!” She exclaims between breaths as the heat of orgasm floods through every one of her limbs. Mulder lets her ride out the sensations, not moving until she’s come back to earth, then he slides up her body, and wraps his arms around her waist.

“Hey there.” He looks at her with what she can only describe as adoration.

“Hey yourself” She brushes a wayward hair from his forehead before pressing a kiss there. The two of them breathe in tandem, like runners pacing one another. Scully is grateful for his patience, but doesn’t want him to think she’s too selfish, so she reaches down and slowly strokes the shaft of Mulder’s erection, up and down, up and down. 

She turns to speak lowly in his ear. “I want this. I want you.”

“How?” Mulder whispers back, wanting to give her control of what is her first time in quite awhile.

“However you want,” she replies smiling. “I’m yours, baby.”

“Well okay, baby,” he winks. Then he settles above her on his elbows and dips his head to angle his tongue into her mouth for a deep kiss. Scully widens her legs and Mulder nestles his shaft into her folds, running back and forth a few times as both of them quiver from the contact. Scully can feel arousal building deep in her groin once again, and she has no illusions of coming twice, she thinks if anyone could make that happen, it would be Mulder. After a few minutes of slow building tension, she can feel Mulder having difficulty holding out.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, “I want you in me. Please.”

“I,” his breathing is labored, “I, uh, want to try something.”

“Okay.” She’s slightly nervous, but much more than slightly turned on, so when Mulder pulls her up from the bed and nudges her onto all fours, she understands. He positions himself behind her and Scully tips her hips upward to let him in. Mulder grips her and waits at her entrance. Scully leans her ass back toward him to signal she’s ready, and then hooks her feet behind his knees on the bed, a trick she learned from a college beau. 

Slowly, Mulder slides into her until she feels like she’ll splinter from pleasure and fullness. She can hear him controlling his breathing, holding himself back.

“Oh god, Scully,” he pants, “oh god.”

“Move Mulder,” she hisses back, shifting her hips a little.

“Oh god, baby,” he begins to thrust into her. “Oh god, I love you so much.”

Together, they set up a slow rhythm, and Mulder reaches around to cup her breasts as he thrusts into her again and again. The angle of being taken from behind puts just the right pressure on Scully’s G-spot, but she’s not sure she’ll get there before Mulder does, so she reaches one hand back to her clit and presses. The sight of her heightening her own pleasure does Mulder in, and he begins to thrust sloppily, on the edge of his climax.

“Let go,” Scully huffs, “I’m there.”

So he does, jerking violently into her just as Scully pulses around him, her own orgasm following closely behind his. She collapses forward onto the bed as Mulder slips out of her and comes to rest on his side. Despite his limp post-coital state, he gathers her to him, and pulls the covers around them. Scully brushes his hair over his forehead again and notices a slight glistening in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks with genuine concern.

“I,” Mulder sighs happily, “am much more than okay. Are you okay?”

“I am too,” Scully smiles and nuzzles his neck. “Except a little mad at how long it took us to get here.”

“True,” said Mulder, “I think we should demand a rewrite.”

“A rewrite?” Scully is incredulous.

“Yes,” Mulder insists, “I’m rewriting last year. As of now, I’m deciding we’re making up for lost time.”

“Well,” Scully says slowly, “if you want to start now, I think I’m going to need some food. Gotta keep up the energy if we’re gonna live up to round one.”

“Got it, food, right.” Mulder sits up and reaches for the phone. “Take out okay? I know a good --”

Scully pins him with an amused look. “You promised me French food, Mulder. I think we can still make our reservation.”

“But Scully, then we have to put our clothes back on,” he whines playfully. “Making up for lost time does not leave us time for getting dressed and undressed. Better we just stay in this bed and have food delivered.”

Scully slips out from under the covers and adjusts her bra as she looks for her panties. “C’mon.” She reaches a hand out to him, winking. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

 

\--THE END--


End file.
